by Alicia McKenzie
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story belong to Marvel. It would probably be set right after the Age of Apocalypse or thereabouts. I know there are a couple of characters running around that probably shouldn't be, but this was a spur of the moment-type piece, so bear with me.
His jaw tightened grimly. The X-Men were one thing, but if X-Force had gone somewhere without permission, he was going to tan their collective hides. Slowly. And enjoy every moment of it. "To hell with this," he muttered, feeling oddly resentful. With his luck, he'd go downstairs to find out that everyone else had run off to deal with the world-conqueror 'du jour' and forgotten to invite him. "Oath, I need coffee."
But he found nothing to suggest a crisis, brewing or otherwise. The mansion was just empty. There was no one in the downstairs hall, or in the kitchen. But someone had left a pot of fresh, very strong coffee. By his third cup, Cable was feeling closer to being human.
About a week ago, Hank McCoy had sat here, watched him down his usual morning intake of coffee, and politely suggested that switching to decaf would be a 'healthier alternative if you intend to continue consuming it in such quantities'. He'd been on his fifth cup at that point, thankfully, and in a sufficiently good mood that he'd managed to limit his response to a suggestion as to where Hank could shove his advice.
Of course, Jean had happened to walk in at that particular moment. And he'd ended up apologizing. Jean wouldn't have let him get away with the whole 'sorry has no meaning' trick. Manners, Nathan, she'd said in his mind. No more, no less. Cable poured himself another cup of coffee, cursing under his breath.
"Twice her flonqing age and I still snap to when she gives me 'The Look'," he muttered balefully. "Once, just once, I'd like to have a woman in my life who COULDN'T double as a drill sergeant." A familiar bleakness crept over him as he wondered, yet again, if it had been such a good idea to bring X-Force here after Murderworld had blown up in their faces. Sure, it made perfect tactical sense, but he wasn't comfortable here. Not when he was faced every day with the family he should have had. It was like the universe was rubbing his nose in it. And after all the timeripping he'd done, he knew flonqing well that the continuum had a sadistic sense of humor. "Oath, you're pitiful," he said disgustedly, shaking himself. "Maudlin, self-absorbed sentimentality, like Blaquesmith would say."
"Talking to yourself, Nathan?" came a smooth, British- accented voice as Psylocke glided into the kitchen, dressed in a rather flimsy robe. She gave him a small, perfunctory smile. "That's a sign of creeping senility, you know."
"I'm talking," Cable growled, "to my imaginary friend." Elisabeth poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down, watching him with cool amusement in her eyes. He gestured rather exaggeratedly at the empty chair beside him. "Psylocke, meet Carlos. Carlos is a Mexican mime who was captured by the Russian Mafia and forced to exchange bodies with an invisible Turkish mutant whose power is to spontanteously generate large quantities of baklava. Needless to say, he has a lot of issues to work through."
Psylocke didn't even blink. There was something to be said for ninja self-possession, Cable thought sourly. "Really?" she said innocently, and glanced at the empty chair. "Poor Carlos. Sounds like you're in a terrible pickle, old chum--"
Cable set his cup down on the table a little harder than he'd intended. "Would you mind not patronizing me?" he said testily. "Am I not allowed to make a joke? Let me guess, there's some unwritten rule somewhere that says if your name happens to be Summers, you're not allowed to have a sense of humor."
"Actually, there is," Psylocke said promptly. "Law 6 of the Xavier Institute's constitution. 'Let it be known throughout the land that if a Summers should attempt a jest, the very fabric of reality itself will come undone. There shall be neither day nor night, and general chaos shall ensue.'" She took a sip of her coffee, but her eyes were twinkling above the rim of the cup.
"Very funny," he muttered. "Where is everyone?"
"Out and about," she said with an elegant shrug. "Logan is somewhere on the grounds, of course, and Warren, slug-a-bed that he is, is still asleep. Hank is immured in his lab, and I would assume Sabertooth and Gambit are still in the medlab."
"Out and about," he said flatly. "That's terribly illuminating, Elisabeth. Thank you."
She chuckled. "You really aren't a morning person, are you? You're certainly not like Scott in that respect. He actually thinks seven a.m. Danger Room sessions are good for the soul."
He gave her an icy look and got up. Everyone, especially the veteran X-Men, had been making comparisons between him and Scott ever since he'd moved X-Force in. It was beginning to piss him off. "Excuse me. I think I'll go visit the Danger Room. At least the computer won't make smart comments."
"Sounds like a wonderful idea," she said, rising smoothly. "Give me a few minutes and I'll join you."
"That wasn't an invitation, Betsy!"
She gave him a coy look over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "Of course it was, Nathan. It's much more enjoyable to have a real live opponent rather than just fighting battle droids, don't you think? Unless you don't think you're up to the challenge--"
Two hours later, Cable wondered what Jean would say if he 'happened' to kill Psylocke during the course of their exercise. Not my fault, Redd--she just happened to get in the way of my gun, and oops! It went off. Terribly sorry.
They were playing a game of cat-and-mouse across a landscape that the Danger Room computer was constantly shifting beneath their feet to add to the difficulty level. One moment, it was arctic tundra, then a tropical rainforest, then mountains, cycling through an infinite variety of terrains.
He was actually winning--he'd tagged her three times while she'd only gotten him twice--but both times she had tagged him, she'd used a low-powered version of her psychic knife. By now, his head was pounding, making it difficult to keep his own shields up. Making it easier for her to find him--which meant the tide of the game was gradually turning in her favor.
The landscape shifted again, to a rocky coastal area. "Oh, Nathan," he heard her call softly. "Here, little mousie. What big eyes you have--"
Silently, Cable called her a number of very impolite names in Askani as he slid down a steep slope into a sheltered grotto. He realized his mistake as soon as he tried to start up the other side and realized that it was even steeper. Gritting his teeth, he started to climb, hoping she wasn't waiting for him at the top.
The Danger Room, of course, chose that particular moment to change the scenery again. Cable swore as he fell ten feet or more, right into the middle of a wide river wending its way through sunny grassland. Unfortunately, venting his feelings regarding the probable ancestry of the Shi'ar techs who'd designed the computer meant that he ended up swallowing a great deal of water. And since he and Psylocke had disengaged the Danger Room's safeties, the river did not conveniently vanish when the computer realized he was in trouble.
He finally managed to drag himself back to shore, coughing and sputtering. "Flonqing--computer," he grated. "Like I really--wanted to go for a swim!" He wasn't a very good swimmer at the best of times. The weight and composition of his T-O incursion tended to make him sink like a stone. Plus, he just disliked getting wet on general principle. Part of him was always afraid he'd rust.
"I was afraid I was going to have to jump in after you for a moment there, Nathan," he heard Psylocke say from somewhere close by. "It's too bad I don't have my camera. You look like a drowned rat. And you're it, by the way."
Then, the world seemed to turn inside out as she hit him with yet another low-intensity psychic knife. By the time he regained his bearings, his headache was twice as bad, he was sprawled amid the undergrowth of a tropical rainforest, and Psylocke was gone.
"All right, that's it!" he snarled, struggling to his feet. He looked around for the gun he'd dropped when he'd fallen, and saw it lying ten feet or so away in the undergrowth. He reached out, concentrating briefly, and the gun flew straight to his hand. Setting it on stun, he took the safety off. He hadn't been using it up to this point, but as far as he was concerned, the gloves were off. "What happened to that British sense of fair play, Braddock?" he shouted, focusing in on her psi-trace and heading in that direction. "Hitting a man when he's down isn't exactly cricket, is it?"
*Perhaps not,* her cool, amused voice said in his mind. *But what do you plan to do about it, Nathan? Bore me to death?*
Nathan's eyes narrowed as he caught a flash of purple in the distance. He raised his gun, tracking her through the laser sight, and grinned savagely as he saw her come to a stop, looking around warily as if she'd sensed something of his intentions.
*Something like that, Betsy--TAG!*
***
"Where the heck is he?"
*Shh! I can't shield all of us if you insist on shouting, Tabitha!*
"Ah don't know about you, guys, but ah'm getting kind of sick of standin' around in the dark like this."
"Zip the lip, Guthrie. If you spoil this and I don't get to see the look on his face, I'm going to be pissed."
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Aw, don't be so hard on the kid, Neena."
"I don't know, Logan. Nice to see someone who's so well-trained--"
*Scott--SHH!*
"I am unclear as to the reasoning behind this--event. In my time--"
"Oh, jeez, here we go with the whole 'When I was in the XSE' schtick again."
"Jubilee?"
"What, Pryde?"
"Be quiet."
"I dinnae know what could be keeping them! Was Psylocke nae supposed to bring him down here at noon?"
"Perhaps they became absorbed in their Danger Room session, Theresa. Undoubtedly they found each other quite a challenge, considering the formidable extent of their combat skills and their similar mutant abilities--"
"Or they wound up killing each other, Hank. I still think this was a bad idea."
"Do not be so overprotective, Warren. Elisabeth is perfectly capable of looking after herself."
*Warren knows that, Ororo. He's just being his typical chauvinist self.*
"Jean!"
"Red was joking, Wings. Don't get your flamin' feathers in a ruffle."
"Archangel does not have feathers, as such, does he?"
"Figure of speech, 'Star."
"Ah. English is a most confusing language, James."
"Boys--"
"Sorry, Dom. Shutting up now."
*Everyone be quiet! They're coming!*
Immediately, silence descended over the darkened games room as they heard noise in the hallway outside.
"I don't know why you're so disgruntled, Nathan," Psylocke said, sounding amused. "You won, didn't you? And fifteen to nine is a more than respectable score."
"Yeah, well, you're awfully free with that psychic knife of yours, Braddock. I feel like I've got a flonqing hangover."
"Poor baby." Psylocke's voice was oozing sympathy. "I could get you some aspirin, if you like?"
Those hiding in the room heard Cable curse under his breath as the door opened. "I'll live, thanks--"
"SURPRISE!"
Jean telekinetically switched on the lights, revealing a room decorated to the nines, and Domino, a positively beatific smile on her face, raised a camera and snapped a picture of Cable as he stood in the doorway, looking utterly stunned.
***
"So you didn't suspect anything, right?" Tabitha asked eagerly. "You were really surprised?"
Cable muttered something under his breath. He was wearing a party hat that Theresa had insisted he put on, and his expression was just short of disgusted. Domino laughed. This was even more fun than she'd thought it would be.
"Oh, the birthday boy here was surprised," she said impishly, paying no attention to the baleful look he gave her. "You can tell by the way he's glowering. He just LOVES to shock people, but he hates being on the receiving end. Don't you, Nate?"
*You're just loving this, aren't you?* his voice said in her mind.
You bet, pal, she sent back, grinning at him. Besides the obvious fun of successfully tricking him, never an easy proposition, there was the simple fact that, for as long as she'd known him, he'd never done anything normal like celebrate his birthday. Oh, well. Maybe he felt awkward about doing it before he was technically born.
*Or maybe I just didn't see the point,* his voice said acidly in her mind. *Your birthday means you're a year older. Big flonqing deal. And it isn't even that accurate, in my case.*
You really are a wet blanket, you know that?
He gave her one of those adorably confused looks that made him look about twelve years old. "A wet what?"
"Ah, non sequiturs!" Hank McCoy said heartily, clapping Nathan on the shoulder hard enough to stagger him. "Among the most entertaining of party games, in my humble opinion. And quite entertainingly complicated by the participation of telepaths."
Psylocke had come over with him. She actually blushed as Cable gave her a level look. "Don't ask me how I got saddled with the chore of keeping you occupied," she said wryly. "And it was a chore, Nathan, believe me. Jean suggested several ways I could keep you out of trouble for the morning. I must admit, letting you use me for target practice wasn't one of them."
Cable snorted. "As if you weren't doing the same. Unless hitting me with your psychic knife every few minutes was your way of preventing me from casually scanning the mansion?"
Psylocke gave an elegant shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Arranging a surprise party for a telepath is just as difficult as it sounds," Jean said dryly, dragging Scott over. Domino had noticed Scott lurking around the edges of the room, as if unwilling to come over and wish his son a happy birthday. Angsting again, no doubt, she thought, not without a trace of sympathy. "We did almost everything only this morning," Jean continued. "Mostly because X-Force wanted to be involved, and with the amount of time you spend linked to them lately, we couldn't be sure you wouldn't pick up on it by accident." She grinned widely. "I actually had to give you a bit of a 'nudge' to make sure you stayed asleep a little longer this morning while we were giving everyone their assignments."
Nathan looked chagrined. "So that's why I slept so heavily."
"That, and you were exhausted," Jean said sternly, waggling a finger at him. "Didn't 'Redd' ever give you a lecture on the dangers of sleep deprivation?" He groaned, covering his eyes for a moment, and her smile returned. "I'm just teasing, Nate." She gave him a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, kiddo."
Nathan flushed, but there was an odd edge of contentment to his expression as Jean stepped back. He looked over at Scott, who was actually fidgeting, a very uncomfortable expression on his face, and smiled.
After a moment, Scott's unease visibly faded, and he actually chuckled. Domino raised an eyebrow, wondering what Nathan had 'said' to him telepathically. Jean was looking on, her eyes suspiciously bright, and Domino decided that she didn't need to know.
She heard a gravelly laugh from behind her. "Ain't that cute," Logan rumbled. He'd actually insisted on being here, despite his preference for the backyard these days. Domino wasn't sure that she wanted to know why. "A real Hallmark moment, Summers-style."
"Oh, shut up, old man," she said fondly, and he laughed again.
***
"You know, if Bobby were here, he'd probably march right up to Cable and start reminiscing about the days when he used to change his diapers," Warren said wryly. "Just to piss him off."
Ororo gave a lovely laugh. "Yes, I can see Robert doing that." She gazed at Cable, who was talking to a few of the youngsters from X-Force, and smiled almost sadly. "Days like this certainly put our lives in perspective, do they not?"
"What do you mean, Storm?" Jubilee asked curiously. She was on a weekend visit from the Massachussetts Academy, but had thrown herself into the preparations once she'd found out what Jean had had in mind. Ororo had spent most of the morning trying to keep up with the child as they tried to complete the list of tasks Jean had given them.
"Only that life can provide you with many unexpected surprises," Ororo said, and looked over at Warren again. "We may not all have been present when Scott chose to send Nathan Christopher with Askani to save his life, but we all felt his loss. I, for one, certainly did not expect to ever see him again."
Warren snorted. "Hell, Ororo, the fact that he came back isn't the strangest part. We've seen weirder things happen. But for him to have been running around in this timeline for years before he was even born?" Warren shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's here, and REALLY glad that he's the real Nathan Christopher and Stryfe was the clone. Still, I don't think it's sunk in quite yet for me."
"I'm getting a headache," Jubilee muttered. "Maybe it's just because we haven't gotten to Temporal Mechanics 101 at the Academy yet, but how are you supposed to keep it all straight?"
"We do not, Jubilee," Ororo said. "But we are grateful, nonetheless." Her smile grew almost mischievious. "You might say, the Bright Lady works in mysterious ways."
***
"Open it!" Tabitha urged.
Taking a sip of her punch, Kitty drifted over to the corner of the room where most of X-Force was surrounding their leader. Cable, his expression curious, was examining a small, wrapped package.
"C'mon, sir," said Sam, the recent graduate. "We spent ages tryin' t'decide what to get you."
"Don't disappoint the children, Nate," Domino said wryly. "Unwrap the thing. And a few oohs and ahhs would probably be in order, too."
Kitty came up beside Sam as Cable pulled the wrapping off the package, rather more neatly than she'd expected. Terry laughed.
"Just rip the wee thing open, Nathan!"
"Waste not, want not," Cable said vaguely, and finally got it unwrapped. It was a videocassette, and Kitty laughed out loud as she saw the title.
"Terminator 2?" she exclaimed. "Whose bright idea was that?"
As one, the other members of X-Force turned and looked at Shatterstar, who shrugged. "I thought it was quite appropriate, both thematically and in terms of characterization."
Kitty hated the way she sounded when she giggled. But she couldn't stop. "Oh--VERY appropriate--" she sniggered.
She seemed to have infected Terry, too. "I dinnae know, Kitty," Siryn snickered. "'Twould think there's more of a resemblance to Dolph Lundgren, meself--"
Cable looked a little puzzled. "Uh--thanks, kids. I'll be sure to watch it."
"I told you he hadn't seen it," Tabitha said, sounding satisfied. "And I wanna be there when he does."
"We'll make an evening of it," Domino said dryly, and Kitty managed to stop laughing as the older woman gave her a thoughtful look. "Okay, kids, let's get to that food before the X-Men eat all of it."
"Great idea! Ah'm starved!"
"Oh, you're always thinking with your stomach, Guthrie," Tabitha scoffed as X-Force made their ragged way over to the table loaded with food.
Kitty smiled at Cable, who was regarding her rather speculatively. "This is a surprise, Kitty," he said softly. "Somehow I don't think you flew over here on a couple hours notice."
She shook her head. "No, I was the only one besides Jean and Scott who knew beforehand. Not much worry about you reading my thoughts when I'm in Scotland, after all." She found a chair and sat down. After a moment, he did the same. "Besides," she said warmly. "I really wanted to be here for this." He raised an eyebrow, and she chuckled. "I still remember holding you, the first time Scott and Mad--your parents introduced you to the rest of us. I was so terrified you were going to cry, or I was going to drop you--"
His mouth quirked in an almost-smile. "You sure you didn't drop me? On my head, maybe? Logan would probably say that explained a lot."
"I did no such thing!" she said with a mock-scowl. "You were so cute back then. What happened?"
"Life," he said, with a curiously poignant smile. He looked around at the others in the room, and his expression grew wistful. "I wish--"
He trailed off, not finishing his sentence, but Kitty knew what he'd been about to say. "Me, too," she said firmly, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "But she IS here, you know, as long as we remember her. And Ray'd be the first to tell you to stop brooding and enjoy your party."
His smile grew more natural. "I didn't know her for very long, Kitty--but something tells me you're probably right."
***
As the somewhat off-key rendition of 'Happy Birthday' wound to a close, Jean reflected that she'd never seen Nathan turn that particular shade of red before. Not even as a boy. She shouldn't be enjoying this so much, it was most un-motherly of her, but it was a strange relief to see a normal human emotion like embarassment from her usually grim-faced son.
"Now you have to make a wish!" Jubilee said loudly. "And it has to be a good wish, too. No fair wishing anyone dead, or anything."
Logan chuckled. "Depends on who he's wishing dead, darlin'. Let's give him some leeway here."
Nathan gave him an annoyed look. "Don't tempt me, Logan." Logan seemed to find that uproariously funny. Ignoring him loftily, Nathan blew out the candles. Smiling, Jean wondered if anyone else had noticed him glance almost furtively at Domino before he did. I wish those two would quit this little dance of theirs, she thought tolerantly. It's entertaining, sure, but they're not teenagers. They ought to know better.
There was scattered clapping, and a little speculation over what Nathan might have wished for. A few of the suggestions were bawdy enough that Nathan flushed again as he started cutting the cake.
Finally, Hank took pity on him and changed the subject."So, Nathan," he said cheerfully. "How far off were we when we decided how many candles to put on the cake?"
Nathan gave him a puzzled look, and then turned his attention back to the cake and its four blue candles. "Four is right," he said, sounding baffled. "It's been four years, from your perspective, since I was born."
"You are obviously not four years old, Cable," Bishop volunteered, and Nathan rolled his eyes as he handed a plate with a piece of cake on it to Kitty.
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Bishop." He looked back at Hank with a smirk. "To answer your question, McCoy, it depends on what century you start counting from."
"Well, that was about as cryptic as I'd expect," Domino said dryly, leaning over his shoulder and snagging a large blob of icing with her fork. He waved the cake-cutter at her threateningly, and she grinned. "Seriously, Nate, I've always kind of wondered myself. Other than your hair going silver, you really haven't aged noticeably in all the years I've known you. A few more lines here and there, but that's it."
"Maybe I discovered a fountain of youth in the course of my 'travels'," he said dryly. "As for the hair, woman, that's your fault. I only had a few streaks of silver before you came along to liven up my life."
Domino grinned. "Not my fault your buttons are so easy to push that I've made a habit out of it."
"Good excuse, Dom. Admit it, you're just sadistic by nature." She gave him an innocent, 'who, me?' look, and he shook his head with a long-suffering sigh.
Jean got the sense that Nathan was quite deliberately trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "How old are you, Nate?" she asked directly. He gave her a deadpan look.
"Older than I look, younger than I feel."
"Oh, now there's a cop-out if I ever heard it," Warren scoffed. Nathan raised an eyebrow, and Warren grinned at him. "Come on, it can't be that bad."
Nathan gave everyone a martyred look. "It's a little more complicated than all of you obviously seem to think."
"Really?" Ororo asked, looking surprised. "What is so complex? We all understand that you have spent time in the future as well as in this era. Surely you know roughly how many years you have lived."
"Maybe Nathan has a point," Hank said, looking absolutely fascinated. "Switching times, perhaps even switching timelines must make it difficult to keep track."
"Not a bad try, McCoy, but that's just the ass-end of the iceberg," Nathan said with a very odd smile. Domino suddenly all but collapsed with laughter, and Nathan gave her an oddly conspiratorial look. "Quit laughing at me, Dom, or I'm going to start cursing a green streak."
"Pot--calling kettle blue--" she managed to wheeze, and laughed even harder as she clung to the back of his chair for support. Nathan was grinning, and Jean realized he was trying very hard to hold back laughter.
"Are we, uh, missing something?" Jimmy asked tentatively, and Nathan lost the battle. He had a very nice laugh, Jean thought bemusedly. Too bad they didn't hear it more often.
Nathan brandished the cake-cutter as if it were a sword. "Full speed ahead and damn the tornadoes!" he exclaimed, his voice quivering with mirth.
"Off the base in right field!" Domino added.
"Whatever floats your dinghy!"
"The early bird catches the slug!"
"Kicking ass and taking notes!"
"Two steps forward and three steps sideways!"
"A stitch in time saves--" Nathan stopped, giving the chortling Domino a thoughtful look. "No, that one's stupid enough as is."
"O-kay," Jubilee said slowly. Everyone else was just staring at Cable and Domino, as if the two of them had been replaced by strangers. "Who spiked the punch?"
fin